So Thanksgiving hasn't always been my favorite holiday. Sure its great, and reminds me to be grateful but its been sometime since I have spent one reminiscent to the T-days of my youth. And I always lament that. I'm a sentimental sap and sometimes have to realize that past memories are to be cherished but aren't ever going to be recreated exactly. But new ones are to be forged in their place.
Last year I hung out with a roommate and put on a dinner for some of the ward members that weren't with family for the holiday. It was special in its own right. Some were just not able to travel just then and some really didn't have anyone to travel to. It touched my heart and reminded me of how blessed I am with amazing family and friends that are always there for me. Even when distance keeps us apart.
The year before was great but different as well. Just my darling parents and myself. This is what its like to be the single one folks. But I was surprised at how pleasant it was. Not surprised that I would enjoy spending time with my parents mind you. But I am easily one of the more reserved of opinion in my family. So it's hard for me to seek out attention except for when I bottle up things to the point of emotional breakdown. Or maybe something slightly less extreme. But it happens on occasion. It was nice to have my parents undivided attention. To just hang out and watch a What Not to Wear marathon with Dad. And cook and shop with Mom.
The Thanksgivings that I miss from my youth I know will never be recreated fully. And I have one particular scene stuck in my head that represents those days. Drives to visit the grandparents in Henderson when we still lived in California. Their old house on San (I just forgot the street name, sad). Playing in their huge backyard, climbing trees, and a huge dinner downstairs with what seemed like all of my cousins. Eating lots and lots of pie. The particular memory I have though always has my cousin Brandon at its center. I've always thought that interesting. Maybe because I'm pretty sure that memory was the last Thanksgiving we had with him. That would have made me about 12. I remember sneaking more pie together. And him teasing me. Me, the disputably most shy cousin of those days. I am grateful for those memories of him. And for all of my family. I know the chances that we will all be gathered for a Thanksgiving like that are unlikely seeing as how family has grown and expanded substantially since then. But these are recollections that I cherish.
I am excited for this year. For the preparing of gluten free foods. To spend it with some of my nieces and nephews. And a couple sisters. (Rach you will be missed). To have family gathered around. And to bring a someone home with me.
Life is not perfect, and none of us are perfect. I do not lead a perfect life. I have flaws and struggles. And joys. And there is something about being surrounded by family (even when there are tense moments and aggravations) that seems to melt the imperfections away. There is a divinity in family. And I am grateful for that.